How to deal with extreme pain

If it is psychological and my life is fine? So many amazing friendships in my life have died out. My brother and I used to be a creative game-making duo, now we hate each other's guts. The girl I have liked since I was 10 years old has become cold and unresponsive because in my depression I got into a relationship with a real bitch.

Everywhere I go, I am silent and controlled, and when I talk with people, they later confess they can tell I have suffered a lot.

I don't even know if the majority of the time I'm conscious of my suffering, I feel I suppress everything immediately. I have read on stoicism and apart from small bursts of cringe, anger and regret, I am a very happy loving guy to be around.

I guess I'm not asking for any universal advice, I'm just venting for once, and hoping for a miracle...

Attached: beautiful.png (472x472, 591K)

Attached: 40463201_1973705869587790_4395106713364070400_n.jpg (540x414, 29K)


How do I stop being a whiny fuck? I used to LARP all the time with my brother, scamming on runescape, roleplaying on several build-roleplay-fight platforms, we even started a clan. He had the wits (at age 22 he knew almost all world history, including the intricacies) and I had the practical skills (at age 16 I was pretty fast on my keyboard, pretty streetwise and had a good marketing sense), we would work side-by-side efficiently to create awesome games that thousands ended up playing. We created a community, where people still message me, offering me IRL money to work on my game again. I don't know why, but I just can't. I feel like I am completely dead inside and have bottled up so many horrible things that its just not worth it.

All my skills are just compacted and slowly decomposing. My literacy levels are decreasing, I am forgetting how to spell things, my quality of English is no longer creative and engagingly neutral but melodramatic and direct, I treat this as a lazy obligation to myself, just fulfilling my "emotional needs" so that I can go back to the nothingness that is existence.

Life was much simpler back then, I didn't overanalyse or critique things based on some kind of moral compass, loosely formed of philosophical gestures and my experience with "pain". I didn't categorise people so harshly as "sociopaths" or "evil", even if they wronged me in the worst way imaginable, rather, act in a natural manner and force them to adjust and play with the rest of us. I was generous and giving, I had a special love towards those of my own gender, towards those I consider "brothers".

Now I am in chaos, my mind is warped with statements about the universality of humans. I must accept these statements, for my past self would have too. I have abandoned an elitism that propelled me forward, that was supplied by the very fabric of my relationships with others. I am completely cut off, and all I have are once-valuable attitudes that just blend in around me.

My quality of English is broken now, too. One sentence has nothing to do with the other. I provide information visually and the words come later, unlike before, where I would first write down the words and intermittently swap between what I ought to write and what would fit.

Every time I face conflict, I have this gay voice in my head that suppresses all human emotion and says "deal with it". I used to be sensitive, I used to have a natural inclination towards crying, towards anger, towards love. Now I rationalise almost all of it and walk on eggshells with those around me.

I often tell myself it is the new western society's (I'm thinking of the metropolitan lifestyle), that everyone is so scheming and distant that acting myself is discouraged. There is no greater social unity.

I often do an exercise where I imagine, "what if everything around me was how I wanted?" Even if the conditions were perfect, that my family problems extinguished, that my everyday exposure was with loving, trusting people, there would still be an unresolved emptiness that neither myself nor others can mend. A tear in my reality that lends its presence to the thick mathematically dense objective world. The world that no emotion or experience sees, the world of the dead.

Every memory of proof of my innocence is buried in the underworld, only several futile appealed attempts to myself in the name of existence is what remains. A faint memory of a "good boy", a "loving friend", a faint memory that is supposed to propel my very life force.

And how do I justify this constant chaos? I turn to the nuances of science. I label people as "bad", some deserving of the worst crimes. I kill the intricate, smaller beauties of reality in order to fit this black and white picture frame of the past, so that I need not question anymore. Emotion to me, beauty to me, ugliness to me is a memorised line. It is something I feign in order to fit in. I have no mental instinct towards anything. Just the stupid, irrelevant inspiring lines of Marcus Aurelius "meet your moral obligations".

I'm going to be honest with you, bud, but your life doesn't even sound that bad.

Whenever I delve into deep thought about this, as I am now, I get lost in my mind. I blame this on my frustration, that it is my poor quality English, or perhaps the pointlessness of these posts. This is Jow Forums after all, perhaps that denialism is working me towards a goal day-by-day. But it is still denialism. I deny my deep pain because there is no solution to it. Yet it still exists. Like a baby, stranded without food and water crying for its mother, a force of nature still demands nourishment.

My words are meaningless, I use words with different levels of abstraction and keep switching between the moment and the faintness of the past or future. I have no conscious sense of present. The moment for me is the past always. Either that or I switch off and blend in, like I never had an identity at all.

I know, that's what bothers me the most. I claim that I do not deserve this, then I switch back to the "everyone deserves acknowledgement for their pain". The problem is that I want healing to it, and I know I don't deserve the energy or investment. I'm owed nothing, yet a force I can't control cries from within. I suppress it of course, I never mention this to people I know, I keep everything secret, I am very stoic and withdrawn. I know that I was born with "nothing", but at this point I feel like I'm in a vicious cycle of rebirth whenever I experience the smallest suffering I do not understand.


I can live normally, I can fulfil obvious human obligations that others, in light of their inclinations towards lust and greed fail to do. Yet these obligations exhaust time and thought that may have been invested in refining a skill with greater broader results.

Now that I am older, maybe its even harder to endure a self-unknown selflessly selfish existence towards personal craft and non-universal selectivity in friendship.

Where do my decisions come from? An elitist desire to show uniqueness to those around me? A "pain" that incites a strong, consistent empathy to help others? And it is always the same rules with this game, whenever its observed, we are supposed to "refocus" the confused, yet strong mind back to its original equilibrium of giving and patience. I am supposed to receive a 3-sentence response from user, first claiming that perhaps something in my everyday life triggered this chain of thought, then in the confusion of this thinking pattern moving on to claim how life is simple backed up by anecdotes from sources I doubt user even trusts.

I hurt my back in the military and going through life with that pain was the worst moment of my life. I almost killed myself to escape the pain.
So I feel you. I would try therapy to see if they have pills. If they give you celebrex, its the real shit because I use it for my real sciatica with it. Its not perfect though.

You waste a lot of words.

And fool that I was, not only to be deceived by the most unvirtuous of characters, but to be twice deceived again by the most foolish of characters. A soul which sees a universality in everything, with no regard to intricacy frames everything as "right" or "wrong", or rather focuses on actions which fits that frame, ignoring how reality around it unfolds itself.

And here I am, I can still call myself an intelligent person, even though I pale to my younger self. People around me are cursed with a permanent stupidity I'm supposed to "work with", and help "fix", else suffer their wrath as a vengeful mob. My duty to humanity is localised to THEM, not the pool of human knowledge and craft but to THEIR EXISTENCE. I owe my very life-force to their existence, for no other reason that they are there.

I convince myself that they are "humans", and that "all humans have an intelligence that we can learn from". And my response to that is as follows: so does that horse you see when it races on the tracks of a hippodrome, so does the sea turtle as you observe it swimming desperately from one side of the lake to another. If you disturb or interact with these creatures while they are fulfilling the duties that nature or some greater force has them controlled in doing, they will ignore you or push you out of the way, ignoring all possible utility you may be to them outside of their unfounded goals.

Jesus FUCKING christ stop whining and hit the gym, get some endorphins going. You sound insufferable

I had a personality that lived dependently, a beam whose forces and dimensions are perfectly oriented in the crevice that was my reality. Should old age come about (the gradual yet inevitable widening of the crevice) or a rock thrown down, the beam will eventually fall into the darkest pit below.

I am to be seduced by those who experience suffering, in its worst shapes, yet do nothing about it. Those who "experience" pain, and whose only accomplishment against such is that they are alive. They use it as a currency, and from such I am encouraged to do. A currency of "I deserve recognition more than you" based on no merit and no greater humanity than what they were put through.

Idiots are given the power to contribute to a meaningful discussion with a single phrase, a memorised sequence of words. And regardless of the wise minds that disregard these rowdy bursts, they still achieve their dirty, undeserved marketing effect. They still steal their share of influence, and can blend back in to their muddy pen to roll in dirt to their death with others of their kind.

Merit is based on nothing. History means nothing. All that matters is the "moment". And we need not conjecture as to how this moment came about, we only need to abandon every other reality and refer to an amalgamation of commandments so that we "just might" be able to serve justice as it is deserved.

And so the cycle continues, a badge from those around you, a "good job" from a distant observer, "well done for doing the right thing" --- forgot to mention how do I know it is the right thing? Why must I invest so much thought and energy into unknown cases such as these? Why must I reset everything I already know about reality ritually whenever a problem confronts me? Do I not love my family? How can I love them exclusively whilst pursuing a flawless, intuitive desire to "be in the moment"

based illiterate military poster

Maybe a meta-way to describe this would be the following:

Dynamic versus Static thinking - where dynamic thinkers are more mathematical and quantitative, whilst static are more intuitive and human.

Dynamic thinkers receive an unfair share of public recognition. Perhaps it is because of how their minds are wired? Reality exists only in the task being followed, while for the static, everything matters and so a new event will not spark much interest.

Does this recognition give them power? Are dynamic thinkers not also often malevolent? Capable of recycling and restructuring their identity at any moment? These are the people that can force a gesture, for good or bad reason. Why must we congratulate these brave characters? Are we so afraid that their selfless existence is potentially finite?

And the choice is your's user, if you've made it this far: you can either be the worker ant, the soldier ant or adopt the mind of an inquisitive human, looking down at the colony, observing the nature of its structure and proposing ways to optimise it.

>im just venting
Did you want advice about your specific event because most people who are just venting arent trying to talk about it.

I'm not OP, I'm just saying OP isn't talking about physical pain.

People with nervous system disorders feel pain that isnt there.
The pain is real and their brain is responding to it.
They dont know why that happens though.

And should you take the noble path of being the soldier ant, a self-sacrificial pawn whose only claim to virtue is their fearlessness, then so be it. And if you possess skills clearly distinguishing you as more useful in another aspect of life, then by still choosing to be a soldier, maybe it can emphasise the consistency of the duty.

Ayahuasca. Learn about it.
Might be a little extreme for most people, unless you're where I am (this or swallowing a bullet).

Resets your brain. It is mentally painful.
Do it mindfully and with purpose. Make a plan beforehand, set goals. Have a guide.

I'd rather go through 10 or so hours of confronting my demons head on than this roundabout, decades-long daily battle.

Attached: qa.png (918x692, 1.32M)

And really my pain isnt real either.
I have a herniated disc impacting my s1 nerve bundle. Its simulating pain down my leg.
The pain isnt really there.

What would make you happy? If you were to imagine in 2-3 years, you felt like you're old self, but better. what is different?

But asides from the perfect reputation associated to these "noble causes" that Buddhism or Stoicism implies, do not be so hasty to put down your own reality. No simplifications and no abandonment of previous values, especially if those values are rare and exist in the very fabric of your ego and the relationship you have with others.

Do not be hasty to seek variety, to peek on what the dirty cynic has to say, who thinks that his nonconformity and resistance to pleasure purifies him of his hubris. Everything outside of your fabric is static information, all these "shocks" are just spikes of stress to appear to others or to yourself. These fables were already known in childhood.

I don't have any specific vision that could truly satisfy all my senses, though I could convincingly make a humble exclamation to my mother that she'd believe. The problems have grown so exponentially, and the course of my life has wildly spasmed far off the road into the distant scorching flatlands.

No material events could relieve this upset, I guess what would make me happy is that I revive a stronger version of my past self and reignite my old relationships, without any of the additive bullshit of "oh we've matured haha", just right where they were.

"You don't have to be loyal to your own suffering"